


Flavor Of The Day

by AbsolutelyNothing



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M, i was really hungry for culver's
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2014-04-15
Packaged: 2018-01-19 13:15:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1471189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbsolutelyNothing/pseuds/AbsolutelyNothing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon and Ryan get frozen custard every day after school</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flavor Of The Day

**Author's Note:**

> i was craving culver's last night at like 11 PM  
> based on this post: http://bottomryan.co.vu/post/82752489492/drabble-where-brendon-and-ryan-stop-by-the-custard

Everyday after school, Ryan and Brendon do the same thing. They drive Ryan’s car down to Culver’s, get custard, and sit in the back corner booth, supposedly working on homework, but really just talking.

 

There’s never anyone else there, since it’s not really after school (Brendon has a last period study hall and Ryan has work release, though he doesn’t work directly after school; so they leave) and it’s nice. Like a date, Brendon says, though Ryan insists that it can’t technically be classified as one.

 

“It _so_ counts.” Brendon argues, pulling the door open.

 

Ryan follows closely behind him, shoving his keys into his pocket. “Okay, it does not, because there’s nothing romantic about it. We’re not holding hands or anything. It is not a date.”

 

“Yeah, but we _are_ dating.” Brendon reminds him, looking up at the menu board.

 

“This is too casual.” Ryan insists again, rolling his eyes. They have this fight at least three times a week. It’s a principle thing. Neither of them can admit to being wrong. "It's a date when something non-platonic happens."

 

“Mmmhmm,” Brendon says vaguely, though it’s clear he’s over the conversation. Ryan's excuses are flimsy at best.

 

Brendon pretends to wait for his boyfriend, while drifting slowly closer to the cashier until she says “Can I help you?” in a slightly amused tone.

 

That’s just a formality at this point. Her name is Joan, and she works every weekday, so she’s always there when Brendon and Ryan are. She could recite their order in her sleep.

 

“I’ll have a scoop of the flavor of the day.” Brendon tells her, handing over the money. He’s got the price memorized. True to form, Joan has the order already punched in before he says it.

 

“You gonna order?” Brendon looks back at Ryan, who is staring intently at the topping selection.

 

“I’m thinking.” Ryan says absently.

 

Brendon huffs. “You get the same thing every day.”

 

Ryan looks up at him. “Maybe I feel like something different.”

 

“Do you?” Brendon raises an eyebrow skeptically and Ryan drops his eyes back to the glass case, the ghost of a smile curving his lips upward. Brendon catches this and grins, turning back towards Joan. “He’ll have a scoop of vanilla with cookie dough.”

 

Joan laughs. She’s already got that down too.

 

They take their dishes past the soda machine and condiment station, straight to the back. Their usual booth is in the corner, partially hidden by the wall. It’s not exactly good protocol for two teenage boys to take the corner booth, but they figure it’s okay since the only person in the place is one of the employees, who is eating a burger while staring transfixed at the game playing on the TV.

 

“What kind is that?” Ryan warily eyes Brendon’s dish as they slide into the booth.

 

“Butter brickle.” Brendon picks his spoon up. “I’ve never had this one.” He licks at the custard tentatively.

 

“It looks disgusting.” Ryan tells him, taking a bite of his own. It tastes delicious, like it always has. He doesn’t have to hope that his gamble pays off, unlike Brendon.

 

Brendon grimaces, staring in dismay at the rest of the scoop.

 

“I was right.” Ryan points his spoon at Brendon. “It’s disgusting.”

 

“It’s alright.” Brendon says unconvincingly.

 

Ryan knows Brendon well enough to predict exactly what’s going to happen next. Sure enough, when Brendon lunges for Ryan’s dish, Ryan’s arm is already up to block him. “No.”

 

“Ryan!” Brendon protests, trying to maneuver his spoon around Ryan’s arm. “I don’t complain when you take mine.”

 

“I only did it one time.” Ryan pushes Brendon away, pinning his arm to the booth. "You do it every time you get a shitty flavor.”

 

“One bite.” Brendon pleads, straining against Ryan’s arm.

 

“You shouldn’t have gotten such a shitty flavor.” Ryan stabs his spoon pointedly at Brendon’s pathetic dish of melting custard. "Like _that_."

 

Brendon sees his chance. He wriggles his left arm free from under Ryan's body weight and grabs for Ryan's spoon.

 

"You fucker." Ryan twisted around just in time to see Brendon eat the bite of vanilla custard and cookie dough. Off _Ryan's_ spoon. "That was _mine_."

 

Brendon shrugs, mouth full. He intends to fire something back smugly, but he's cut off by Ryan's lips on his own.

 

It's an automatic response, it really is, to open his mouth for Ryan and Ryan's tongue darts into his mouth, and he's licking the goddamn custard out of Brendon’s mouth.

 

“That’s disgusting.” Brendon breathes when Ryan pulls back.

 

Ryan shrugs slightly. “It was mine.” He leans back into kiss Brendon again. He feels Brendon smile against his mouth, and sits back again. “What?”

 

“It _is_ a date.” Brendon crows smugly before pulling Ryan back in.

 

 


End file.
